


Something Better Than Cake

by KaykiStar, southdownsraph, Ver_Sacrum



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Body Positivity, Body Worship, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Discussions of Weight Gain, Drag, Fluff, Hemipenes, Masturbation, Multi, Smut, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Tucking, Vaginal Sex, muffing, some brief angst about quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaykiStar/pseuds/KaykiStar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/southdownsraph/pseuds/southdownsraph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ver_Sacrum/pseuds/Ver_Sacrum
Summary: Aziraphale finds some old photo albums while cleaning during the lockdown that remind him of his time in the drag scene, and he gets more than a little lonely.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 123
Collections: Good Omens Mini Bang, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Our Own Side





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my piece for the Do It With Style mini bang, I was so lucky to work with two super talented and lovely artists! Their illustrations are featured in the third and fourth chapters, I hope you enjoy!! I had so much fun doing this :)

Aziraphale was doing his best to stop thinking about Crowley, but it was proving to be difficult. He felt bad for playing their usual game when he'd called Crowley. He'd hoped that the demon would just ignore his protestations about the lockdown and come over anyway, but he knew he should have just been clear about what he wanted. 

Even a year after the Apoca-wasn't, though, Aziraphale was struggling with that ingrained guilt he'd carried around for millennia - the feeling that he was doing something wrong. It hadn't exactly stopped him from committing several sins at once with Crowley on a semi-regular basis, but it had always come with so much heavy shame. It had always been impossible to think of Crowley as anything other than the 'Other Side,' at least consciously, and adjusting to the new state of things wasn't easy. 

Aziraphale wished it was, with everything he had. 

He wished they could have it back, that feeling just after...satisfying one another, when everything was so clear and easy and peaceful. Not only back, but  _ permanently. _ Aziraphale rather felt they were owed something for their part in the events the year before, but they hadn't really gotten anything. Well, aside from the Earth continuing to exist. 

But Aziraphale wanted more, he wanted...what? 

Aziraphale sighed to himself and wandered into his back room, starting to dig through some old boxes as he tried to push the thoughts aside. They kept returning, though, insistent, pressing him, echoing over and over -  _ what?  _

Aziraphale wanted Crowley. 

His hands began to shake slightly and he almost dropped the book he was holding, the force of the realisation hitting him hard enough to sting. He'd thought it before, but never in such definite terms, never anything beyond wanting Crowley in that purely carnal sense that covered up everything else. But now Aziraphale was finally,  _ finally  _ allowing himself to think that what he wanted was Crowley. Not just Crowley's body or his company through a difficult time, or even his insistent, gentle needling that was always so effective in making Aziraphale do things he knew he ought, but didn't really want to do. He wanted Crowley, all of Crowley. He wanted the demon in his arms, wrapped up in him, lanky legs pressed between his own thick ones, his hands in that beautiful red hair. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, his rather unhelpful mind throwing up the memory of Crowley's voice, soft and disappointed, his quiet 'goodnight, angel.' He'd hurt Crowley, he knew that, and it was hurting him, too, more than it should have. Gritting his teeth, Aziraphale lifted a stack of books out of the box with a grunt, setting them down so he could read the spines. Then he glanced back at the box and noticed something hiding in the corner. Tilting his head as he reached down, he pulled out a small, leather-bound photo album, brushing the dust off it with one hand. 

Aziraphale recognised it as soon as he read the worn sticker on the front with a date marked in pen, and smiled to himself as he got up, quickly settling into the nearest chair to open the album in his lap. The first picture was his favourite from that period; a picture of himself in full drag, wearing a figure-hugging, glitzy floor-length white gown that he had absolutely loved. His look had been more classy than outrageous, compared to some of the other queens he'd known over his time in the scene, and he had to admit, at least to himself, that he missed it. 

Aziraphale had never really had the chance to be recognised, to be cheered for or commended or appreciated. Granted, it was often because he was making a bit of a mess of things, but for a while back in 80's London, he had been  _ special. _ People had come from all around Europe to see his shows, and he'd been involved in a lot of younger queens' careers. After all, it had been adjacent to his job; he was helping them make money from their innocent talents rather than the countless other things they could have been doing. Drugs and unsafe prostitution were both big problems in the community at the time, and steering his little drag babies away from both had been something that made him incredibly proud. 

Aziraphale smiled to himself and turned the page, his breath coming out soft and slow as he saw those lovely young faces smiling back at him from the photographs. Many of them were still around, although most were retired now, and he couldn't really make contact with them. Explaining how he hadn't aged at all would have been rather difficult, but he inquired after many of them occasionally, just to see how they were doing. And if a miracle or two slipped their way every now and then, well...who would know? 

His thumb ran over another photo, his smile becoming a little bittersweet. It was always difficult, with humans. They were so delicate, and although he always found himself fascinated with their spirit and their love for life, always so easily caught up in their lives and swept along with them, it ended up the same every time. It was like sand, slipping through his fingers. He loved the feel of the grains caressing his skin on their journey, pulled along by gravity and the natural laws of the world, but it was hard not to be pained by the speed at which they vanished. 

Aziraphale turned another page, then another. Pictures of himself in pretty, sparkling outfits, different wigs, even some suggestive, lingerie-reminiscent stage outfits flashed past, along with pictures of all his old friends and his 'children.' Until the last picture - a grain of sand that wasn't pulled by gravity. 

The picture was of Aziraphale standing with Crowley, their arms around one another, smiling at the camera. Crowley had found him to ask him about some job or other and had gotten pulled into Aziraphale's little world. Aziraphale had had to 'retire' in order to sort out the Arrangement, but he'd convinced Crowley to join him for one last show, and had helped him with his makeup and gotten him into a slinky black sequined dress. Crowley had taken to it like a duck to water, and when Aziraphale had later shown him his old post-show routine, Crowley had quite happily taken Aziraphale. 

The angel sighed to himself, remembering the happy times, remembering the way Crowley had made them a bed in the back room of the bookshop after a rather too long car ride of touching and kissing and telling Crowley repeatedly to keep his eyes on the road. They'd laid there together for a while after, just staring at one another. Aziraphale had been too tired for the familiar shame to wash over him immediately, so he'd just studied Crowley for a while, enjoying his features, enjoying the fact that they were together. And then Crowley had made some excuse about work, gathered his things, and had been gone before Aziraphale could even think of stopping him, leaving the angel alone in his shame and guilt. 

Aziraphale sighed again and turned his mind back to that routine, the little things he did after a show. He sat back in his chair and slowly put the album aside, spreading his legs slightly. Crowley had been so enthralled, he could remember the demon's expression now, those golden eyes wide, pupils blown, his hands on Aziraphale's thighs. A soft smile twitched at the angel's lips and he tried to imagine Crowley kneeling in front of him in the bookshop, those gentle, long fingers skimming over his thighs, rubbing at his skin through his trousers. 

Without needing conscious thought, an effort began to form between Aziraphale's legs, and he slipped lower in his chair, reaching down to press against himself, rubbing at himself and letting out a slow breath, pretending it wasn't him, but Crowley. Imagination and memory came together and he unbuttoned his trousers, using the heel of his hand against the base of his length while he felt Crowley's hot breath on him, remembering how the demon's mouth had felt. Aziraphale's head tipped back and he let out a soft whine, his eyes half lidded as he pulled his underwear down out of the way, letting his length spring free, already standing fully hard just at the thought of Crowley and those strong, needy memories. 

Looking down at himself, Aziraphale made a decision and slipped his coat off, then his waistcoat, pulling his shirt up slightly to keep it out of the way. He sank a little deeper into his seat, and cupped his balls in one hand, smiling to himself. He wanted to remember how it felt, not only with a faded memory, but with a present reality as well. Carefully, his breath hitching in anticipation, Aziraphale lifted his balls towards the base of his cock, rubbing over them lightly with his thumb. Then he gently pressed against one, pushing lightly. A moment of pressure, and then it slipped inside his body, causing him to let it a surprised little moan as it traveled back up inside him, settling into that little pocket. Smiling now, Aziraphale pressed the other ball up on the other side of his cock, feeling the same slight popping sensation and the pleasure of that gliding feeling. Still cupping himself with one hand, Aziraphale pressed a little higher, blocking the way in case his balls tried to slip out again, and began to feel around his lower stomach. Although he couldn't see the lumps anymore - well, he'd never been able to, thanks to his softness, but after doing nothing but baking cakes for two weeks since the beginning of lockdown, it was definitely much harder - he could feel them. If he pressed just right, he could find the little egg-shaped lumps under his skin, rubbing over them ever so lightly with his fingertips. Too much pressure was painful, but just enough sent electrical pulses up his spine as he leaned his head back again, toying with himself. 

Closing his eyes, Aziraphale remembered the way Crowley had looked, so slender that his tucked balls had stood out against his skin, beautifully obvious and so easy to trace with a fingertip after he'd asked Aziraphale to show him. 

A soft moan slipped past Aziraphale's lips as he remembered, and he moved his hand out of the way, pressing down against his stomach gently and letting his balls slip back into place, filling out his sack as he relaxed. The sensation of them dropping was almost as delicious as feeling them slide up, so he allowed himself to enjoy it for a moment before cupping his balls again. This time, he imagined they weren't his, but Crowley's, reminding himself of how it had felt when he'd kissed the demon and gently shown him, pressing first one up - Aziraphale moaned softly, his hips twitching - and then the other - another quiet whine filled the empty air of the bookshop. Crowley had squirmed under his hands, gasping out how good it felt, fascinated as Aziraphale deftly tucked his cock back and helped him slip on the gaff to keep everything in place. He'd gotten up and gone to the mirror, tracing over those little lumps, toying with them just like Aziraphale was now. There'd been a bed, suddenly, and Aziraphale hadn't protested when Crowley had laid himself across it so invitingly, his body bare apart from the gaff, his whole being open for the angel. 

Aziraphale wrapped his hand around himself as he remembered leaning over Crowley, lapping over the little bumps in his lower stomach, kissing at them, pressing ever so lightly, telling him how sexy he looked. And then he'd sat back and- 

Aziraphale looked down at himself, wondering if it would feel just as good as it had then, briefly uncertain. He took a deep breath and slowly pressed a finger up against the base of his length, carefully feeling around until he found that little hole, the small ring of tissue that he'd just pushed one of his balls through. Biting his lip, Aziraphale began to press in, his eyelids fluttering closed in pleasure, his mouth falling open in a silent moan as he remembered how he'd shown Crowley, opening himself up for the demon's eyes, his whole finger disappearing up into himself. Breathing heavily now, Aziraphale worked his finger in slowly, the pleasure almost overwhelming as he wriggled it slightly, pressing up against so many sweet spots. He slid in all the way up to his second knuckle and stopped for a moment, stroking himself slowly with his other hand. 

As Aziraphale paused, he remembered showing Crowley, slipping the demon's gaff off, playing with the little mounds in his skin until they slowly dropped back out, then working a finger into him, toying with him, pressing deeper. It hadn't taken long at all for Crowley to squeal out Aziraphale's name as he finished, and then he'd thrown Aziraphale back down to the bed and slowly pressed two fingers into him. 

Sinking his own finger deeper, Aziraphale allowed his mind to wander, his memory replaying for him the way Crowley had wrapped his beautiful lips around Aziraphale's cock, those long fingers reaching so deep inside him, rubbing up against the base of his length and those lovely little sweet spots inside him. A soft moan slipped past his lips and Aziraphale bucked slightly, then began to thrust his finger slowly, easily at first, then speeding up slightly, keeping his strokes in the same rhythm. 

He could feel his tip leaking now, so he swiped his thumb over the head of his cock, moaning out louder to the books that were his only company, his special entrance beginning to feel stretched enough for him to work an extra finger in. Pulling the first finger back, Aziraphale dipped in with two fingertips, gasping happily at the feeling of being filled again, those fingers breaching a secret little place inside him and pressing slowly, inexorably deeper. It didn't take long at all for him to bury his fingers all the way inside him, so he began to thrust again slowly, his mind once again wandering back to Crowley and that tongue.  _ God,  _ that tongue! 

Aziraphale's chest was heaving now, his lips parted, endless whimpers and moans spilling out, barely audible to him as he felt that build up, chased the orgasm. He could almost feel Crowley's warm, wet mouth around him, those perfect lips, that tongue flicking over him, and then he hit something just right with his fingers and cried out. The pleasure was better than anything he'd felt in a long time, his cum making an absolute mess of both the chair and his trousers. But Aziraphale was too overcome to care, rocking his fingers ever so slightly as he stroked himself slowly, coaxing every last drop from himself. Then he collapsed back into the chair, panting softly and suddenly very,  _ very  _ lonely. 

There was no guilt this time, just a sad, heavy, incessant  _ need.  _ Aziraphale needed company, he needed someone to talk to, to be with. He needed Crowley. 

Sighing a little irritably, Aziraphale picked up the album and flicked to that picture of the two of them once more, staring at it for a moment. He shouldn't have played games, he knew that. It ached in his chest. He shouldn't have played around the words, he should have just allowed himself to be vulnerable and told Crowley he wanted him instead of trying to coax him to break the rules so he didn't have to ask. 

He had to fix it. 

A tiny miracle later and Aziraphale was standing by his phone, clean and once again dressed properly. He hesitated for a moment, then picked it up and dialed the number with one shaking hand. 

His heart began to pound as soon as he heard the ringtone start, his breath getting heavier the longer it went on. By the third ring, Aziraphale was about ready to give up, just as the line clicked. 

"Angel?" Crowley mumbled, his voice slightly hoarse, deeper than usual and full of sleep. "You okay?" 

"I...I thought you'd be asleep, my dear," Aziraphale chuckled, suddenly nervous, breathless. 

There was a short pause, an amused silence. "Then why'd you call?" 

Aziraphale took a sharp breath in, the words lining up on his tongue, begging to be said.  _ I miss you.  _ "I just thought I'd check and see you weren't up to any mischief," he answered lamely, and Crowley sighed. 

"Really, angel? That's not me, is it? Gluing coins to the pavement, bringing down mobile phone networks, sure...but going out when people are  _ dying?  _ It's not really my style." 

"You...you can't catch or transmit it," Aziraphale pointed out quietly, and Crowley sighed again. 

"I know, angel, I know," he said, sounding exasperated and exhausted. "But if I go out, humans will see and think they can do it too, and-" 

"They don't have to see," Aziraphale wheedled, getting slightly annoyed that Crowley was being the reasonable one for once. 

"True," Crowley murmured, suddenly sounding thoughtful. He left the hook dangling and Aziraphale took a deep breath, knowing that now was the time to be brave. 

"Please, Crowley," he forced out, his hand going to the phone cord, twisting it around his fingers nervously, his heart in his mouth. "I...I miss you, I'm...lonely." 

"You...you miss me?" Crowley echoed softly, sounding completely dumbfounded, at a loss for words. "Really?" 

"Of course, I...I was thinking about you all day, and...and I realised I could have been kinder on our last phone call, and then...and then I realised that I miss you and your company." 

Crowley was quiet again for a while, then hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose I could find some good wines. And if I take the car, and wear a mask.."

Aziraphale smiled to himself, his whole being feeling lighter and full of energy as he realised what Crowley was saying. "Oh, please, I...I'd like that. You and the wine." 

There was a soft chuckle from the other end of the line, and then Crowley hummed again teasingly. "So predictable, angel. I'll be about half an hour." 


	2. Two

Crowley put his phone down on the bed and stared at the wall for a while. The whole pandemic thing was making him uneasy, and he knew he shouldn't have caved. Despite the fact that he was, unfortunately, a demon, it didn't sit right with him; the idea of directly or indirectly causing death. 

In the same way that Crowley had made sure that although he'd given those people at the ex-convent real guns, he'd also given them all 'lucky misses,' Crowley couldn't quite bring himself to tempt humans into actually killing other humans. And encouraging people to leave the house without masks and break the lockdown rules definitely fell under this onerous umbrella. He hadn't protested too much during their first phone call for just this reason, but now he was reconsidering. 

He'd never heard Aziraphale be that clear about what he wanted.  _ Ever.  _ It was just not a thing the angel did - he always talked in roundabout ways, beating around the bush and dancing around the problem and trying to get Crowley to be the 'nasty' one and say the thing he didn't want to say himself. The fact that he was finally dropping the act after over six thousand years told Crowley two things. Firstly, they'd made considerable progress in their relationship - friendship -  _ whatever _ it was. Aziraphale was beginning to feel able to be properly open, which meant he felt safe enough to be vulnerable, and this made Crowley smile, despite his worry. Secondly, however, it meant that Aziraphale really was feeling desperate and lonely, and Crowley didn't like the idea that the angel had been hurting for two weeks now. He'd always been there to hug him and kiss the hurt better, and it gave Crowley a sense of urgency that finally propelled him out of bed and down the hall. He also had to consider the fact that Aziraphale would likely only ask once, and so he had to take advantage of this opportunity, in case there wouldn't be another one.

As Crowley stalked through his flat, he snapped his fingers to change his clothes and smooth out his long hair - he was growing it out again to give Aziraphale something to hang onto - and paused by the door. 

Then he sighed heavily and walked back to his plant room, grabbing two pots. A brief moment of thought and his sunglasses were in place, along with a plain black mask, and he was heading out of his building and to the Bentley.

It took Crowley a few trips to load his plants and a case of wine into his car, but eventually, he left the car park, turning out onto the road a little more carefully than usual with his prized cargo in the backseat. 

As he drove, Crowley looked around, taking in the empty streets, shocked by how quiet it was. Usually he'd have to swerve around several pedestrians on the way to the bookshop, but today there were only a few people out. Most of them were wearing masks, and Crowley couldn't help feeling like he'd been picked up and dropped in the middle of a post-apocalypse movie. Every shop was closed, there were no lines or tables out on the pavements. It felt peaceful, but also eerie as well, reminding Crowley of much darker times. 

When the Black Death had swept through Europe, Crowley had been in England, and it had been hard not to see its effects. Aziraphale had been positively frantic at the time, trying to save as many people as possible, and Crowley had even helped a bit, on the sly. They'd both been used to people killing one another by that point - wars were commonplace, unexceptional - but a disease that horrible and that virulent had been something else. And it had taken so many children. 

Crowley's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he gritted his teeth, trying not to remember how many little miracles he'd done, how hard he'd had to work to cover up his actions so Hell would never find out. He tried looking around to calm himself, to remind himself that the streets being so empty was a good sign, but as he turned the corner onto a different road, he spotted something that made his fangs itch. 

A group of young men, all of them that typical type of English white man, a little balding on top, wearing some bad polo top and jeans, were all standing around, probably about ten of them. Crowley didn't bother to count, he could see the flyers they were pinning up, declaring that 'Covid-19 is a hoax!' and telling people to 'wake up to the government conspiracy!' 

It made Crowley's blood boil, especially so soon after the thought of those plague pits, so he grinned to himself and snapped his fingers as he drove past. 

All the flyers in their hands and on the shop windows they'd been pinned to mysteriously shredded, while the men's shoes all stuck firmly to the pavement. They tried to walk off and nearly fell over, leaving Crowley chuckling darkly to himself. 

It wasn't exactly an inspired teaching moment, but then, Crowley  _ was  _ a demon. Giving humans lessons was more of an angel thing, and besides, at least the stupid men would think twice about going out and spreading the virus to people who wouldn't be able to fight it. Crowley felt a momentary flash of guilt at that thought, but then sighed and reminded himself that he couldn't spread anything. And it wasn't like he was planning to leave Aziraphale's shop after he arrived. He knew they could find  _ plenty _ of things to do to spend the time, after all. 

With that thought, Crowley managed to relax, smiling ever so slightly just as he pulled up to the bookshop and miracled himself a small covered alleyway to park the Bentley in, safe from thieves. He took a slow breath to prepare himself, then got out of the car and headed for the door. 


	3. Three

Aziraphale opened the door as soon as he heard the knock, his cheeks flushing, his whole body filling with warmth when he saw Crowley. The demon smiled, Aziraphale could feel it, despite the dark glasses and black mask hiding most of his expression. He was wearing his usual all-black outfit with a touch of silver, and had a plant nestled in the crook of each arm. 

"Good evening, angel," he purred, and Aziraphale shuddered inwardly. 

He knew that, if he plied Crowley with enough wine, he'd be able to hear the demon using that exact tone of voice to say rather more _...tantalising_ things. 

"Come in, come in," he said quickly, and Crowley nodded, but simply held the plants out. 

"I've got quite a few more to come. And a case of wine, as promised," he announced, and Aziraphale blinked, then took the heavy pots, barely noticing the weight. 

"Oh, I...you're planning to stay, then?" He asked quietly, suddenly hopeful, and Crowley stopped, going rigid. 

"Do you...not want me to?" He mumbled, and Aziraphale blushed - _damn it all, why did he have to blush_ so _easily?_ \- and did his best to continue on his trend of being honest. 

"Of course, dear, I'd love that," he murmured, and this time, Crowley was the one blushing. 

"Could you...could you come get the wine? It's a bit heavy for me all in one go," he admitted, and Aziraphale nodded, setting the plants down just inside the entrance to the shop. He followed Crowley to the car and leaned into the backseat, picking up the case of wine bottles as if it weighed nothing. Knowing full well that Crowley rather liked seeing him lifting far more than the demon himself could manage, Aziraphale turned to him and smiled politely. 

"You can put some of those smaller plants on top, if you like." 

Crowley's expression was still unreadable thanks to his glasses and mask, but his cheeks flushed darker as he loaded Aziraphale's arms with as much as the angel could carry while still able to see where he was going. Smirking to himself, Aziraphale walked off, heading into the shop and setting the case down on a table, which groaned in protest. Shortly after, Crowley wandered in with the remaining plants, setting them down next to the case and pulling his mask down. 

"Sorry for all the um...plants. I can't just leave them," he mumbled, still clearly embarrassed as he tugged the mask off fully and slipped his glasses from his face. Aziraphale's heart stuttered at the sight of those beautiful golden eyes, making him smile even as his cheeks flushed all over again. "It's alright, dear. They'll um...brighten the place up a bit," he answered happily, his tone completely genuine despite his hesitation. "Why don't you go find them all homes while I open us a bottle?"

Crowley nodded and headed off immediately, leaving Aziraphale the task of taking the wine bottles out of the crate and transferring them to his designated wine cupboard. It didn't take him too long, so he chose a bottle at random and removed the cork expertly, then grabbed two glasses and headed into the back room to find Crowley. He was facing away from the angel, muttering to the last plant as he placed it on a shelf, adjusting its leaves and stepping back, hands on his hips to inspect it. Aziraphale glanced around the room contentedly, enjoying the greenery and letting out a soft breath as he reminded himself that Crowley was with him, and he was there to stay. At least for now, anyway, and the bookshop already felt so much more lively and homey with the touch of Crowley around the room. 

"It looks perfect, dear," Aziraphale announced softly, and Crowley jumped, turning hurriedly. Aziraphale offered him a glass and he took it with a relieved smile, waiting silently as Aziraphale filled the glass for him. 

"Red. You're clearly trying to get me drunk," Crowley chuckled, almost nervously as he collapsed onto the sofa gracefully, leaving Aziraphale the choice between his desk chair or the rest of the sofa. After a moment's thought, he sank into his desk chair, knowing it would give Crowley a chance to spread out in that way he liked so much, and besides, he could always move later. When he was feeling more confident. 

Aziraphale took a sip from his wine, eyeing Crowley as he gulped half the glass in one go. 

"How was the drive?" 

"Uneventful," Crowley answered too flatly, swirling the wine and watching it for a moment before his eyes suddenly moved up to Aziraphale's, pinning him down. 

"It's unlike you to have trouble sleeping," Aziraphale commented quietly, and Crowley sighed. 

"It's unlike you to invite me over, but here we are," he pointed out, and Aziraphale gave him a look. 

"You don't have to be so sharp with me, you know." 

"I know, s'just a habit," Crowley muttered, but the blush on his cheeks was almost as good as an apology. 

"I don't think I have an awful lot of news to tell you," Aziraphale sighed, looking down into his glass as Crowley finished his off. Without needing to think about it, Aziraphale handed the bottle over. Crowley polished off another half a glass. 

"Y'know, all these people calling it a hoax are definitely ending up downstairs," Crowley announced conversationally, as if remarking on the weather, and Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully, deciding that he needed to be a lot more tipsy for this awful, awkward small talk. He downed his own glass and Crowley topped his up before handing the bottle over. Aziraphale poured another, blinking as he tried to register what Crowley had said. 

"Yes, most likely," he answered at last, and Crowley seemed satisfied with this, going pensive for a while and staring at nothing while he drank. Aziraphale followed suit, but he had a feeling that what he was thinking about was probably a bit more graphic than whatever was occupying Crowley's thoughts. The angel couldn't stop thinking about those lips, pressed against the wine glass so teasingly, so soft and perfect and making him feel so _needy._

Aziraphale poured himself another glass and handed the bottle back to Crowley, realising with a small dash of hope that they were both trying to get drunk. That usually meant that they were both planning something a little sinful. Or perhaps a lot. 

Crowley poured the rest of the bottle into his glass and looked up at Aziraphale, who simply sighed. 

"I'll get another," he murmured, taking the empty bottle and getting up, already starting to feel the effects as he walked into the back room and pulled out another bottle. As he carried it back towards Crowley, he realised the demon had a little black book open on his lap, and was flicking through the pages with a smile on his face. Aziraphale set the bottle down and frowned. 

"Crowley? What've you got there?" He asked suspiciously, and Crowley held up the photo album, causing Aziraphale's cheeks to burn immediately. 

"Oh." 

"These were good times," Crowley commented quietly, his voice a little nostalgic, and Aziraphale walked over, finally finding the confidence to sit down next to the demon. 

Crowley glanced at him, briefly surprised, then smiled the sweetest smile Aziraphale had seen in a while. Usually when Aziraphale got close to Crowley, the demon's looks were more lustful, but this was gentle and kind and full of hope. 

"Look, I remember you picking my outfit for me," he said softly, showing Aziraphale the picture of the two of them in drag, side by side and smiling at the camera. 

"Yeah, you were really good," Aziraphale murmured, turning his head and realising that Crowley was staring at him, his lips parted ever so slightly, longing written all over his face. 

"I...I was a bit thinner in those days," Aziraphale remarked with a nervous laugh, rather clumsily trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "Especially lately. Someone has to eat all those cakes," he chuckled softly, and Crowley set the album aside, his hand suddenly on Aziraphale's cheek, stroking his skin tenderly as if afraid to break him. 

"You're stunning, angel," he said quickly, his voice low and serious, insistent. 

"I'm soft," Aziraphale whispered, staring deep into those intense eyes, losing himself in that beautiful gold, in those mesmerising slitted pupils, even as his breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded in his chest, his tongue feeling thick as he tried to understand, to really process what Crowley had said. 

"You are," Crowley smiled, his spare hand moving up to cradle the other side of Aziraphale's face. "And I absolutely love that about you, angel." 

And then Crowley was moving, lifting Aziraphale's legs and tipping him back expertly, all in one smooth motion, one arm under his knees, the other behind his back. 

"Crowley! I-" Aziraphale stuttered nervously, but Crowley was smiling, swinging a leg over the angel and guiding his head down onto a pillow that appeared miraculously. 

"Shhh, angel. Relax," he soothed, his eyes fully golden, his pupils almost the size of his irises now, his hands sliding over the angel's torso. "Let me show you how perfect you are. Please?" 

Aziraphale hesitated, then nodded slightly, trusting Crowley, knowing the demon would never harm him. Crowley grinned, long fingers tugging, pulling, Aziraphale's waistcoat falling open. Lips graced the angel's cheek, jaw, neck, nose, anywhere Crowley could reach as his hands slid up Aziraphale's body, over the curve of his stomach and up his chest. Those devilish hands turned, squeezing, cupping the fatty tissue under the angel's nipples and causing him to gasp, his head tipping back. His hips bucked, but Crowley tutted, nuzzling at his jaw gently. 

"No, no...s'not sexual, not yet. Just relax," he purred, his voice low and soft, his thumbs running over Aziraphale's nipples through his shirt. Aziraphale whined, turning his head as he felt warm breath on his cheek, his eyes opening to gaze up into Crowley's. The demon smiled, his expression softer than Aziraphale had ever seen it, his pupils contracting back to normal as he blinked. 

"May I kiss you?" Crowley asked delicately, and Aziraphale swallowed. Ever since their first all those thousands of years ago in the Garden, neither of them had asked. They both just took, secure in the knowledge that they both wanted it, the unspoken lust always hanging thick in the air. Of course, there were questions, there were fumbles and even laughter, sometimes, but it wasn't asking in the same way that Crowley was asking now, that little smile on his face, his expression full of _...love_. 

Yes, it _was_ love. Aziraphale could feel it around them both, he could taste it on his tongue, and he nodded, breathless and suddenly sober. 

"Yes," he whispered, and Crowley leaned in, his lips ever so soft and gentle, his hands running higher and slowly, teasingly sliding Aziraphale's suspenders off his shoulders. Aziraphale winced, miracling the waistcoat out of the way and pulling his arms from the elastic straps. One hand found Crowley's hair automatically, the other sliding up to his cheek, holding ever so carefully, afraid that one wrong move would break the moment. 

Crowley's hands found Aziraphale's buttons, fumbling briefly before getting the first button undone, then the second, the third. Aziraphale shivered at the feeling of the air on his skin, but he kept the kiss, tasting that sweet, sugary, molasses and honey love as it rolled off the demon, the kiss still soft and slow, but deep and needy at the same time. Impatient, Crowley finally smiled against Aziraphale's lips as he tugged the angel's shirt from his trousers, a soft laugh from Aziraphale breaking the kiss for only a heartbeat before Crowley was tugging him back in again. 

Aziraphale went willingly, savouring this new affection, but still on edge, still waiting for it to dissolve into simple lust. But Crowley had other plans. 

He finished off the last button and pulled Aziraphale's pale blue shirt open, making the angel shiver as Crowley's lips parted from his. The demon ducked down and Aziraphale gasped in surprise as Crowley ran his hands over the line where the angel's belly met his hips. He cradled the soft fat and nuzzled at it lightly, pressing a loving kiss to the skin just under Aziraphale's belly button, his palms resting on either side of his head, his fingertips rubbing over some of the angel's most prominent stretch marks.

And then Crowley looked up, golden eyes meeting Aziraphale's, sweet and once again full of love. "I think your softness is beautiful, angel. You indulge yourself, you enjoy human things, you...you became part of this world, and I love seeing that on your body. These marks, they just remind me of all the years we've been here together, enjoying Earth." 

He slithered up Aziraphale's body slightly, kissing just above the little dip of the enthralled angel's belly button. Aziraphale couldn't look away, mesmerised by those beautiful golden eyes, those careful, gentle strokes with thin fingertips. 

"Your body is so special to me, Aziraphale. It holds you," Crowley smiled, no trace of a smirk or a teasing glimmer, just simple, straightforward admiration. "And you're my favourite person. Look at this," he grinned, moving a little further up and pressing his hands into the thick layer of softness covering Aziraphale's ribs. "Look at how huggable you are. My cuddly, gentle, handsome angel," Crowley went on, and Aziraphale felt his whole body flush, his blush spreading all the way down his neck as he just watched, open-mouthed. Well, not just watching, but _basking_ \- soaking up all that attention, reveling in the warmth of it, savouring the taste of the demon's love in the air. And Crowley was more than happy to give out more. 

_Art Credit - Kayki_Star_

His hands reached up again, his body following, pressed flush to Aziraphale's now, his hands finding the angel's soft chest once more. Whining, Aziraphale allowed himself the indulgence of sliding a hand into Crowley's hair, clinging on gently as the demon's forked tongue flicked over one pink, hard little bud. Crowley's hand squeezed, massaging the fat under his palm, his thumbs pressing down against those perfect nipples, his grin still soft and completely lust-free. 

"So much to hold onto, hmm? So perfect to squeeze and massage and play with. Hmm? Tell me what you are, Aziraphale. I'll even give you a hint, it begins with 'p,'" Crowley said softly, slowly, his tone commanding, and yet cajoling, almost pleading with Aziraphale and ordering him at the same time. 

"Pudgy?" Aziraphale tried with an uncertain little smile, not sure how Crowley would react to the 'joke.'

The demon shook his head, nuzzling at his chest happily, his hands running down to massage Aziraphale's ribs instead. "Try another," he murmured, and Aziraphale closed his eyes, stroking Crowley's hair slowly, his heart pounding in his chest as he realised the love he could taste in the air around him didn't just come from the demon. He smiled to himself, aware that the revelation should scare him, should make him feel like he was betraying his kind, but with Crowley there, laid out on his chest and pressing kisses against his skin, everything else felt very distant and inconsequential. 

"Mm, I'm stuck, tell me," Aziraphale murmured, and opened his eyes again with a soft gasp when that tongue flicked over his nipple once more. 

"Perfect. You're perfect, angel. Whatever weight you are. More or less, it doesn't matter. You'll always be perfect, and I love every inch of your softness." 

Crowley spoke quietly, calmly, but his eyes were fixed on Aziraphale's again, the sheer force of his emotion taking the angel by surprise. He reached down slowly and stroked the demon's cheek, smiling sadly. 

"I appreciate it, my dear," he said very softly, hoping Crowley could hear his affection as clearly as Aziraphale could see Crowley's. "But you're drunk." 

"I'm not," Crowley answered immediately, suddenly seeming disappointed, beginning to sit back as if something between them had been broken. "I'm not drunk, I sobered up as soon as you said you were soft," he protested, folding his arms over his chest as he sat back on Aziraphale's hips. The angel stared up at him in dismay, desperate to get the magic of the moment back, to feel that love lifting him up, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. 

"Crowley, I...I have to tell you something," Aziraphale blurted out quickly, gently disentangling himself from the demon and sitting up, pulling his shirt closed around him as he looked at the floor. "I...I'm not sure if it'll be good or bad news," he mumbled, uncertain all over again, now that the emotions he'd felt so tangibly such a short time ago were already slipping away into memory. "But...I have to tell you now, because I don't know when I'll ever get the courage again," he went on shakily, not daring to look at Crowley. "I...I've missed you, so much. These past two weeks have been really tough and I just...I've begun to realise what's important and what's not, and I...I don't want to feel ashamed anymore. Crowley, I...I love you. I've loved you for decades, hundreds of years, maybe even thousands, I...I don't know how long it's been, but I...I love you," Aziraphale forced out as quickly as he could, knowing deep within himself that if it wasn't now, then it would be never. 

Silence fell for a moment, and then Crowley cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"I...how could you possibly think that would be bad news, Aziraphale? I...I've been in love with you for millennia! I've been trying my hardest to keep you for all these years, always having to watch you succumb to that stupid guilt and go back to Heaven instead of being with me, and you think that you telling me my feelings are returned could possibly be _bad_ news?" He exclaimed, his voice rising in volume and emotion, his breath coming quicker as he spoke. _"Fuck,_ Aziraphale! I love you and you're so, _so_ intelligent, but why do you have to be so _stupid_ sometimes?" 

Aziraphale couldn't help himself - he burst out laughing. Crowley was silent for a moment, apparently shocked, then began to laugh as well, falling back against the sofa and chuckling at nothing until the mirth faded and left Aziraphale feeling rather more like crying than laughing. 

"I'm sorry, Crowley. I'm sorry for everything," Aziraphale murmured, his throat tight as he turned at last and looked at his companion. Crowley just smiled that perfect, warm, loving smile, and stroked Aziraphale's hair with one tender hand. 

"You're forgiven, angel. I'll always forgive you, just like you forgive me." 

Without having to think, Aziraphale surged towards Crowley, who caught him easily, their lips coming together in the most loving, caring kiss, fingers spreading on one another's cheeks, tangling in each other's hair. Aziraphale laughed into it, and Crowley just grinned, both their lips beginning to taste a little salty. 

After a while, kissing turned to just hugs, and then to Aziraphale laying on his back on the couch, Crowley sprawled between his legs, laying chest to stomach with the angel so his head rested right in the centre of Aziraphale's ribcage. His soft cheek pressed against the angel's warm, bare skin, his thin arms underneath Aziraphale's open shirt and wrapped as far around his torso as Crowley could get them. Aziraphale's plump fingers toyed with Crowley's hair gently, his gaze contentedly fixed on the late evening sunlight as it filtered through the window and splashed golden across the fresh greenery of Crowley's beloved plants. The moment was as peaceful as peace could get, and Aziraphale could have stayed like that forever, both of them cradled in the embrace of each other's love and the soothing silence of the empty bookshop. 

"Angel?" 

"Mm?" Aziraphale hummed, running his fingers through Crowley's hair slowly, gently working out any tangles he found. 

"I was thinking about those pictures," the demon said slowly, his eyes opening as he shifted, crossing his arms under his head and resting his chin on them so he could look up at Aziraphale. "Do you remember what happened after those were taken?" 

Aziraphale felt the blush begin and smiled slightly, moving his hand down to cradle Crowley's cheek, his thumb running under one golden eye. "I was thinking about it earlier, as a matter of fact." 

Crowley smiled, a hint of smirk around the corners, his position shifting slightly so his body was pressing harder against the space between the angel's legs. "Yeah? And what thoughts did you come up with?" 

His blush even darker now, Aziraphale curled a finger, gesturing for Crowley to come closer. The demon obeyed, moving up Aziraphale's body, his knee pressing firmly against the angel's crotch, rubbing slightly as he moved. Smiling to himself a little nervously, Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley down and whispered into his ear, feeling that his idea was rather too lewd to be spoken loudly. Crowley's eyes widened in surprise, and then his smirk widened into a grin and he nodded. 

"That's a fantastic idea, angel. But first, I want to see all of you," he purred, snapping his fingers and turning the couch into a bed, shoving the rest of the furniture towards the walls and making a huge mess. Aziraphale laughed and tried to protest, but Crowley was already kissing him, pulling him deeper and deeper, that forked tongue making Aziraphale melt. 

"Naked," Crowley hissed after a moment, pulling away just long enough to rip his jacket off and pull his shirt over his head, then diving back in and tugging at Aziraphale's shirt. The angel managed to struggle out of it, then grabbed at Crowley's hair, pulling him deeper and rocking his hips up against him as both their efforts began to take shape, driven by their lust and need. Crowley's hands ran down to Aziraphale's trousers, fumbling and finally getting them unbuttoned, then breaking the kiss and sliding down his body to pull them off. Lifting his hips up to help, Aziraphale felt his underwear come free with the trousers, leaving his half-hard effort out in the open, caressed by the cool air. Crowley purred in satisfaction, tugging Aziraphale's trousers off all the way before spreading his plump thighs and grabbing at the ample flesh roughly. 

Crying out, Aziraphale bucked his hips, but Crowley was already kissing up one thigh, that tongue running over the angel's still-lengthening shaft and then down, over his balls. Aziraphale whined in pleasure and desire, running his hand over the back of Crowley's head as his cock twitched needily, his legs folding and pulling up and open automatically, giving Crowley the best possible access to everything he had. 

The demon knelt, his hands cupping Aziraphale's balls, his own bulge straining at his jeans already. Aziraphale gasped softly and prepared himself, his eyes rolling back as Crowley began to toy with him. He pressed one ball up into the angel's lower stomach, then the second, whistling quietly. 

"As easy as ever, huh? Look at you, just taking it. Are you a good little angel?" 

"Y-yes, Crowley!" Aziraphale moaned happily, just as the demon's finger pushed up into one cavity, pressing Aziraphale's ball as far up as it would go and making the angel squirm, his fingers curling and tangling in the demon's hair desperately. His cock was already standing fully to attention, pre glistening at the tip, just as Crowley let go and pressed on Aziraphale's stomach lightly. The angel moaned needily, happily, feeling his balls slide through him and back into his sack with a light popping sensation, his hips bucking automatically. 

"What a good angel," Crowley purred, his voice encouraging, full of gentle, loving, yet lustful praise, his tongue swirling around the base of Aziraphale's shaft and sending a shudder up his spine. "Tell me how much you love to be fingered, I want to hear you want it," the demon growled, his tone now low and commanding, making Aziraphale whine softly as he bucked, trying to find more sensation. Crowley's merciful hand wrapped around him, stroking slowly, just enough to help him concentrate, the desperation fading slightly.

"Ohhh, Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped, his body arching up needily. "I love it so much! I...I did it to myself earlier a-and all I could think about was you! Please, I...I want to feel your fingers in me!" 

Crowley hissed in satisfaction, one finger plunging into Aziraphale's already stretched opening and causing the angel to cry out in blinding pleasure, his cock leaking, pre running down his shaft. Catching the drip with his tongue, Crowley curled his finger deeper, rubbing against the inside of that little pocket and making Aziraphale grab at the sheets, fingers curling and gripping, tugging as he tried to ground himself. 

"Ahhh! J-just like that!" He squealed, and Crowley chuckled, pressing a second finger in, then slowly separating his digits, scissoring them to pull Aziraphale even further open. Aziraphale whimpered and shuddered, and cried out when Crowley's fingers breached his other opening, the pleasure overwhelming. It felt so much better than doing it himself, Crowley's movements unpredictable, but always so incredibly pleasurable. 

He kept scissoring inside Aziraphale's little pockets, his fingers brushing the deep, sensitive tissue at the base of that thick cock, a third finger in each of the angel's canals making him cry out again, whimpering with pleasure. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead, his cock leaking almost constantly now as he begged incoherently, trying to get the message across that he was right on the edge. Crowley purred and leaned forward, taking Aziraphale's length all the way into his throat in one movement, and swallowing. 

Aziraphale screamed, his body twisting as he came, his hand shoving Crowley down, his head rolling back. His orgasm was more explosive than anything he'd felt in months, his whole body shuddering with the effects, his cock erupting down Crowley's warm throat. Crowley simply hummed happily, suckling and flicking his tongue to draw every last drop from the angel, his fingers rocking inside him, pleasuring him through every second of his mind-blowing orgasm. 

As soon as Aziraphale went limp against the bed, fully spent and panting, Crowley sat back, then moved to straddle Aziraphale's chest, his bulging jeans right in front of the angel's face. 

Aziraphale's eyes widened and Crowley grinned, slowly undoing the button and zipper, pulling his jeans down slightly, then his underwear. His cocks spilled free, rising up towards his stomach, bobbing slightly and already leaking, needy. They were both a little smaller than his usual single effort, probably about the thickness of three or four of his fingers together, but they looked just as inviting as ever. 

"Are you going to take me like a good little angel?" Crowley grinned, his golden eyes glinting in the low light, his canines elongated slightly in that way Aziraphale found unbearably sexual. 

"Y-yes Crowley! Please!" He whimpered, and Crowley chuckled, sliding down his body again and leaning down to kiss him, his lips soft and gentle. Desperate for contact and still trembling from his orgasm, Aziraphale tugged him a little deeper, snapping his fingers to remove Crowley's tight jeans and his underwear all in one go. Crowley smiled into the kiss, but kept it slow and loving, making sure the angel could feel every ounce of his emotion. For his part, Aziraphale soaked it all up, returning it as best he could, his hands on Crowley's cheeks, thumbs stroking his skin tenderly. 

And then the demon was finally pulling away, smiling down at his angel, stroking his hands down Aziraphale's soft, padded chest. "Are you ready, angel?" He murmured, his voice unbelievably inundated with love, his words practically dripping with it. Relaxing, Aziraphale nodded, the desperation fading in the certain knowledge that he would be taken care of and made love to, unlike he ever had been before. 

"Yes, my love," he answered simply, and Crowley purred, lining himself up with both hands. 

Aziraphale shuddered as he felt Crowley's slick tips nudging against the entrances to his canals, his secret openings only ever visited by the demon and himself. All theirs. And then Crowley began to push gently and Aziraphale was moaning, his eyes rolling back, his body arching up into Crowley's steadying, almost protective hands, the sensation of being stretched and filled so thoroughly nearly pushing him over the edge already.

"Good, that's it, angel," Crowley praised quietly, his hands kneading at Aziraphale's stomach, knuckles pressing against his stretch marks and into his plump, soft fat. "My beautiful, perfect angel. I know you can take all of me," he murmured, pressing deeper while he spoke, working himself inside bit by bit. 

Aziraphale simply laid limp and whimpered, the sensation overwhelming him, making him feel like his whole body was on fire with needy, desperate, intense pleasure, his muscles twitching. Crowley was inside him, penetrating him, filling him with both of his cocks and buried deep inside that place the angel reserved just for them. And it felt better than anything Aziraphale had ever felt before. 

"Shhh, I've got you," Crowley soothed as the angel whined, his hands finding Aziraphale's cheeks and cradling his face, lips pressing against the corner of his. "It's alright, nearly there. Breathe for me," the demon murmured, then let out a soft sigh as he buried himself as far as he could possibly get, nudging up against the end of those tight little passages. Aziraphale shuddered and felt himself leaking, spilling pre everywhere just as Crowley took one of his hands and guided it down to his lower stomach. Feeling around himself gently, Aziraphale's eyes widened when he found the bulges of Crowley's cocks under his skin, a soft moan slipping past his lips as he pressed down against them lightly. 

"Ohhh, _fuck,_ Crowley!" He gasped, and the demon chuckled, rocking his hips ever so slightly and causing Aziraphale to cry out as he felt the cocks moving under his hand, bumping up against the end of his pockets again and sending a wave of almost unbearable pleasure through him. 

"This was a _very_ good idea, angel," Crowley purred, then shifted his position, bracing his arms against the bed and leaning down to kiss Aziraphale softly, just before he rocked his hips again. 

Aziraphale saw stars, his mouth falling open, moans spilling from his lips uncontrollably as Crowley began to find a slow pace, rocking within Aziraphale, massaging the base of his cock from inside him, stretching those little pockets to their limit. Still shuddering with every thrust, Aziraphale began to settle into this new pleasure enough to register Crowley's deep, desperate moans above him, and the feeling of the demon's cocks under his hand. He could feel every thrust, every movement, and he whined to himself softly, his eyes slipping closed again as he felt pre running down his shaft. 

Crowley grunted and began to lengthen his strokes, sliding almost all the way out of Aziraphale before pressing back in slowly, easily, the angel's body now used to the stretch and accepting it easily. "Good angel," Crowley managed between moans, his fangs making it a little harder for him to talk, his lips parted as his eyes slipped closed. His hips began to move faster, rolling expertly, his pace picking up as his moans got louder. Aziraphale squealed in overwhelmed pleasure, his hips thrusting down into Crowley's strokes, his world filled with nothing but the demon and those amazing, intense sensations. His hands came up, gripping Crowley's lithe back, short nails digging into his skin as Crowley moaned, muttering something about being close just as Aziraphale began to feel the build up, the pleasure far too good for him to last much longer. 

He choked on another moan, trying to warn Crowley, but far too gone to speak, his hips bucking, his cock twitching and leaking all over him as he whined desperately. 

Crowley thrust again, harder, sharper this time, and Aziraphale screamed all over again as he came once more, spilling over his stomach and whimpering, his chest heaving. Crowley groaned at last, his hot cum suddenly filling Aziraphale, his hips rocking, riding out his orgasm as the angel moaned at the feeling of being fucked with Crowley's spend. 

Crowley collapsed, still buried inside Aziraphale, nuzzling at the underside of the angel's jaw as they both went limp, Aziraphale's arms draped over the demon's back. 

"You okay?" Crowley asked after a moment of nothing but their ragged, shaky breathing, and Aziraphale managed a nod. 

"Th-that was the best thing I've ever felt," he gasped, and Crowley grinned, his effort disappearing slowly, leaving Aziraphale feeling suddenly empty as his own effort vanished. He snapped his fingers to clean the stickiness from between them and stroked over Crowley's hair slowly, a soft, dreamy smile on his face. 

"Mm, I love you." 

"I love you too, angel," Crowley answered simply, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's neck without moving his head. "I wanted to go slower, but that was so good," he sighed, and Aziraphale chuckled softly, letting his thick fingers tangle in that silky red hair. 

"It was perfect, Crowley. It was something just for us, and that was exactly what I needed." 

"Good. Angel?" 

"Mm?" Aziraphale hummed, grabbing a blanket from the bed that had previously been draped over the back of the sofa and pulling it around the both of them. 

"What now?" Crowley asked softly, sounding uncertain, his voice much smaller than Aziraphale was used to hearing. "I mean...I've been loving you for so long and just...not expecting anything to happen. I don't know what we do now." 

"I'm not sure either," Aziraphale answered quietly, wrapping both arms around the demon tightly. "But I think right now, I'd like to try some of that sleeping with you. It feels like it would be the right thing to do." 

"It would certainly be fun," Crowley agreed thoughtfully, then slowly slid off Aziraphale's body to lay beside him, smiling at him with eyes already clouded with sleep. 

"Come here," he murmured, and Aziraphale obeyed, a little awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself until Crowley slid an arm around him, pulling him closer. Their foreheads rested together and Crowley sighed contentedly, the air once again thick with love and affection. 

"This is perfect."

Aziraphale smiled to himself, then tilted his head, his fingers under Crowley's chin, gently guiding him into the softest, most tender kiss either of them had experienced. 

"Yes, it is," he answered as he broke away, and they both smiled, utterly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features an illustration done by the wonderful Kayki_Star! If you would like to see more of their lovely art (I'm sure you do), I've put both of their instagram links below! 
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/kaykistar/  
> https://www.instagram.com/kaykistar.nsfw/
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3


	4. Four

Crowley woke early the next morning, light streaming in through the dusty bookshop windows and spilling over the bed. Aziraphale was still sound asleep, his back to the demon, his side rising and falling with the sound of his soft breaths. It should have felt peaceful and sweet, the morning after what had happened the night before. But Crowley just felt sick. 

He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Aziraphale as he slouched at the edge of the bed, dragging his hands down his face. He let out a deep, heavy sigh, and glared at the carpet. 

For as long as Crowley could remember, he'd been lonely. It had been a constant part of his life since his Fall, and it had ached inside his chest every waking moment, up until he'd met Aziraphale. Crowley was sure he'd fallen in love during that first conversation they'd had on the wall surrounding the Garden, after the way the angel had looked so adorably perturbed by his own kind act. He smiled to himself, even now, at the thought. A tired, weak smile. 

Unfortunately, Crowley knew that although being around Aziraphale soothed that ache that had become as much a part of him as his corporation, the pain he felt when the angel wasn't around only got worse the closer they got. And the closer they got, the more Aziraphale had always pushed him away. 

He'd hoped that things would be different after the end of the world that wasn't, but despite the fact that Aziraphale seemed to have finally caved to the idea of 'their side,' he still seemed to feel that guilt every time they were together. He still danced around the idea that they could be together, and he still rejected Crowley every time they got closer again, so that the demon was feeling rather like one of those paddle toys with a rubber ball attached to a string - Aziraphale would tug him back in only to slap him away again. 

Sighing heavily, all the weight of six thousand years on his shoulders, Crowley got up. He knew in his bones that it was only a matter of time before the angel woke and got frantic and started babbling about mistakes and how Crowley needed to leave immediately, so he decided to spend that time wisely. 

Still naked but effortless, Crowley made his way through the bookshop slowly, climbing the black spiral staircase as if his feet were encased in lead. A twist of the doorknob at the top, and he was in Aziraphale's second floor. It was a simple room, with a smaller square footage than the main room of the bookshop, but rather more well-organised. A simple bed was shoved into one corner, immaculate and hardly-used, a tall wardrobe beside it. Most of the rest of the space was taken up with boxes of books, but beside the wardrobe was an item Crowley knew well - an ornate, full-length mirror with a silver frame. The frame was a bit tarnished, but, in all fairness, it was rather old, and the snake motif was still visible, even from the doorway. 

Smiling to himself, Crowley walked over to it and ran a finger along the frame, ignoring his reflection as he studied the gift he'd given Aziraphale hundreds of years before. The tarnish on the frame was only a few years old, which made Crowley smile even wider. Aziraphale did keep the thing maintained - a thing Crowley had given him as a joke, a little 'temptation' to vanity, which was something an angel wasn't supposed to experience. But Crowley had always thought that Aziraphale deserved a little vanity. After all, his corporation was so beautiful, and Crowley liked the idea that the angel came up here sometimes to look at himself and think of him. 

With that mental image still lingering in his mind, Crowley opened the wardrobe. It was a simple design, very spacious, but there weren't many clothes hung up at all - only a few spare coats, some soft pajamas that Crowley supposed were probably about as well-used as the bed, and a handful of thick, baggy sweaters. Crowley pulled one off the hook, balled it up, and buried his face in it.

One long inhale brought the scent of Aziraphale washing over Crowley, making his shoulders sag as he squeezed the fabric against his thin chest. Then, almost without thinking, he tugged the sweater over his head and let it fall down to his knees, the collar slipping to one side and revealing a good slice of collarbone. 

Crowley turned slowly and looked in the mirror, a rush of not entirely unpleasant emotion making it difficult to breathe for a moment or two, all the air leaving his lungs in one go. He hugged himself loosely, feeling the tears stinging his eyes as he realised this would never be normal. He would never wander around the bookshop in Aziraphale's clothes as often as he wanted to; he would never be allowed into Aziraphale's life. Not enough to slot in, to become a part of it. He was only a visitor, and he would always be nothing more than a visitor. 

"Crowley?" 

The voice made him jump, but it wasn't angry. Aziraphale just sounded confused and worried, so Crowley sighed to himself and padded across the hardwood floor, his bare feet sticking slightly. He hesitated in the doorway, briefly wondering whether to take the sweater off, then decided against it and began the slow descent down the stairs, his hand trembling slightly on the rail. 

"Angel? You okay?" He called, stepping off the last stair and walking across the carpet into the back room. Aziraphale was sitting up in bed, looking sleepy and confused. He brightened when he saw Crowley, however, a smile spreading across his face. 

Awkward and uncertain of what to do, Crowley just stood there, one arm hanging by his side, the other wrapped around him to hold his elbow in an oddly defensive stance. His heart was beating fast in his chest, his nails digging into his own skin as he just stared at the angel. 

"You look so cute, my dear," Aziraphale said softly, then blinked slowly, apparently noticing Crowley's body language for the first time. "What's wrong? You seem upset." 

Crowley's breath caught in his throat, suddenly feeling choked, trapped. His eyes widened, his fingers tightening on his arm, nails pressing deeper. He knew he had to get the words out, he had to ask, just so that he could know for certain. Waiting was killing him. 

His nostrils flaring with suppressed emotion, Crowley swallowed hard, then finally opened his mouth to speak. "I need to know if everything last night was real. Please, Aziraphale. I...I need to hear you say it." 

Aziraphale frowned for a moment, sleep still clouding his face, then nodded to himself ever so slightly, realisation dawning as his gaze returned to the demon's. He didn't say anything, but lifted his hand and curled a finger, beckoning Crowley over. 

Feeling suddenly lightheaded, Crowley obeyed, crawling onto the bed shakily, allowing the angel's hands to guide him, gently pulling him down to sit comfortably. 

He couldn't speak, his heart in his mouth, his whole body trembling as those plump, gentle hands slid over his cheeks, cradling his face. Aziraphale just gazed at him contentedly for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him. 

Crowley melted into it, tentative relief washing over him and making him shake even more as he simply leaned into the kiss, feeling the tenderness, the passion, the determination as Aziraphale gently guided him deeper. As always, Crowley went more than willingly, allowing the angel to set the pace, but chasing the contact desperately as he began to pull away. 

Aziraphale laughed softly, a carefree, happy sound that made Crowley intensely, immediately jealous, staring into those gentle eyes with a need greater than any he'd felt before. 

"I need to hear you-" 

"I love you, Crowley," Aziraphale interrupted softly, his smile full of tenderness and caring. "I'm not going anywhere, not this time." 

Crowley hesitated for a moment, overcome with shock, then flung himself into the angel's chest, burying his face in Aziraphale's hair and letting out a deep, slow sigh. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he ignored them, far too wrapped up in the feeling of Aziraphale's arms around him, their hearts beating together against their chests. 

"Shh, it's alright," Aziraphale soothed quietly, his hand stroking over that beautifully silky hair. "I'm sorry for all those other times, my dear. I'm sorry I've been so scared, but it's different now. I promise." 

Crowley only managed a tiny nod, still clinging to the angel, needing at least a few minutes to collect himself. Sighing ever so softly, Aziraphale shifted position, and Crowley took the opportunity to press in even closer to the angel, wrapping himself around him and clinging on. 

Aziraphale chuckled softly, his hand running down to Crowley's lower back and gently drawing him closer, guiding the eager demon to press his body flush to the angel's. Neither of them said anything, neither of them feeling as if anything needed to be said, and silence fell for a short while. It was quiet and comfortable and, for once, Crowley felt truly relaxed, the moment so perfect and easy. 

_Art Credit: Ver_Sacrum_

After a few minutes, his mind wandered to the night before, remembering the way Aziraphale had cried out for him, the way they'd made love so perfectly, fitting together exactly right. He _needed_ more. 

Suddenly feeling the urge to seal their newly confessed love with the most timeless display of affection, Crowley pulled away just enough to tug Aziraphale into a kiss, the angel making a soft, surprised sound before leaning into it eagerly. Crowley drew him deeper, and Aziraphale followed his lead, opening his mouth and allowing Crowley in, slowly becoming the one leading. Quite happy to concede the power to Aziraphale, Crowley simply enjoyed the kiss, loving the fact that it was passionate and deep while still being full of tenderness and love.

After a few blissfully long minutes, however, Crowley realised that although Aziraphale was leading the kisses, if he wanted it to go any further, he was going to have to take over. His body was beginning to feel hot and tingly, that telltale sensation that meant he needed to get Aziraphale pinned to the mattress as soon as demonically possible. Although it really didn't take much - just a gentle push, a shift of Crowley's weight, and Aziraphale was laying down, tugging the demon with him and gasping when Crowley's knee found its place between those thick thighs. 

A grind of the demon's hips, and Aziraphale was whining, fingers tangling in Crowley's hair as he dragged him back down into a kiss, rather deeper and more lustful than before, his legs opening. He hadn't chosen an effort yet, but Crowley still rocked against him, drawing happy little sounds from the back of the angel's throat. 

The kiss broke suddenly and Aziraphale panted, gazing up at Crowley with soft blue eyes, full of love and need as his plump hand caressed one angular cheek. "Tell me again how much you love my shape," he begged quietly, and Crowley's eyes widened, unblinking as he stared down at his angel. Then he grinned and slipped down the bed, his hands finding the backs of Aziraphale's thighs and grabbing at the soft flesh there. 

"You're fucking beautiful, angel. Always have been, always will be. I love the way you look, I love grabbing at you and kissing you and hugging you. You make me feel safe and loved," Crowley purred, his voice starting off very seductive, and ending the speech sounding a bit more sweet than he'd intended. 

But Aziraphale simply gasped happily and pressed into his hands, just as Crowley ducked his head and began to kiss up one juicy, soft thigh, his forked tongue flicking over that beautiful skin, tasting right up at the top of the angel's inner thigh. 

"Effort?" He growled softly, and Aziraphale whined, his fingers tangling in Crowley's hair already, his hips rocking needily. 

"What do you want, my love?" He panted, and Crowley chuckled, giving a small shrug. 

"Surprise me," he challenged, then quickly shifted his gaze down when Aziraphale closed his eyes, relaxing back into the bed. Crowley just loved seeing the angel change, showing his readiness and eagerness in the simple act of preparing himself, giving himself the ability to engage in whatever they had planned. It had always been a huge turn-on for Crowley, and that morning was no exception. 

He watched, enraptured as Aziraphale changed in front of him, legs spread wide to give him the best view possible. First to appear was a flushed little clit, already showing off Aziraphale's desperate arousal, then a slow formation of his outer lips, graced with trimmed blond hair, neatly kept, but not shaved - just the way Crowley liked best. Lastly, the inner lips appeared, already slick and shiny, Aziraphale's soft moan as his entrance opened inside him making Crowley's own effort appear rather more quickly. He could feel it aching and twitching between his legs, brushing up against the inside of Aziraphale's sweater and sending little shudders of pleasure through his body, but he ignored it for the moment, instead diving straight in. 

Aziraphale moaned, his back arched, Crowley's tongue flicking, swirling around his clit, making his body roll with pleasure. 

"Fuck! Yes, Crowley!" The angel squealed, and Crowley smirked, then dragged his tongue up the length of Aziraphale's effort, ending the slow glide with a teasing flick against that lovely little clit. The cry this drew from the angel was reward enough, but Crowley already wanted more. 

He ducked and thrust with his tongue, pressing its inhuman length into Aziraphale all in one go, tasting him, rubbing against him, feeling the texture of his walls. The angel squealed again, spreading his legs and shoving at the back of Crowley's head, trying to get him impossibly deeper. 

Knowing neither of them could survive much more teasing, not that morning, not in that moment, Crowley pulled away hurriedly, discarding the sweater and grinning as he sat back. 

"Take me!" Aziraphale begged immediately, his eyes trailing down Crowley's body hungrily, and widening when he saw the massive effort Crowley had conjured up for him. He gulped, and the demon chuckled softly, leaning over Aziraphale and letting his tip nudge up against the angel's lovely little clit. 

"You want it, hmm? I know you're a size queen, aren't you? My naughty little angel. Spread 'em wide, my love." 

Aziraphale did just that, already gasping and panting, his legs as wide as they could go, and Crowley smirked, guiding himself as he began to push against the angel's entrance, the slick wetness of Aziraphale's folds already covering the head of his cock. 

"Tell me you love me!" The angel cried out, and Crowley snarled, abruptly thrusting his hips, forcing his tip into Aziraphale and relishing his half-screamed moan. 

"I love you!" He growled, and Aziraphale laughed breathlessly, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him down into a deep, slow kiss. Crowley melted, the rest of his cock following his tip in a slow, easy glide, Aziraphale's body opening up for him eagerly, needily, despite the fact that he was trying to slow things down. 

Following Aziraphale's lead, Crowley kept the kiss, deepening it slightly, his hand on the angel's cheek, and began to move. It was slow at first, more of a rocking motion than a thrust, but Aziraphale was already a mess. He broke the kiss almost immediately, already moaning shakily, his head tipping back as his hips bucked unconsciously. 

"Shhh, angel. I've got you. Take a deep breath, my love," Crowley said softly, the comforting words spilling from him easily, without thought, one of his hands sliding down to caress the side of Aziraphale's lovely soft stomach. 

"Crowley!" He sighed happily, and the demon chuckled, nuzzling at his jaw lightly. 

"Mmm, I'm here. I love you," Crowley mumbled, keeping the gentle, easy pace, using his thick length to massage the inside of Aziraphale's passage, and slowly lengthening the thrusts until he was almost pulling out of him completely with every moment. Aziraphale's plump fingers tangled in the demon's long hair, not pulling, just holding as he rocked his hips up against Crowley, whining needily. Crowley smiled against his skin and began to press soft, loving kisses to the angel's neck and jaw, his spare hand cupping Aziraphale's cheek. 

"Come for me, angel. I know you can," he purred, and Aziraphale groaned, his other hand reaching down to Crowley's hip, trying to pull him deeper, faster. 

"M-more!" He choked out, and Crowley obliged, moving just a little faster, hitting the end of Aziraphale's passage with each push, and relishing his happy cries. 

"Good, you're such a good angel," Crowley praised in a growl, shifting position to give Aziraphale what he needed. The angel might have wanted slow, loving sex, but Crowley knew damn well that slow, loving sex wasn't going to give Aziraphale the release he really, truly needed. 

Propping himself up on his hands, Crowley paused for a moment to survey his angel, taking in his flushed cheeks, his half-closed, pleasure-clouded eyes, his beautiful, perfect body. Crowley grinned, pulled back, and slammed home, accompanied by a loud squeal from Aziraphale. He chuckled and sat back on his knees, shifting his weight until he was comfortable, then grabbing onto Aziraphale's legs. The angel whined, but Crowley was already thrusting, hitting Aziraphale's g-spot with every buck of his hips, and noticing with satisfaction that the angel's fingers were twisting in the sheets, clinging on desperately. 

With this treatment, Aziraphale didn't last much longer, soon screaming out as his body shuddered, went stiff, and then suddenly relaxed. Crowley collapsed against him, the powerful contractions of the angel's passage pushing him over the edge, his hips rocking instinctively as he filled his partner with thick, hot demon seed. Aziraphale moaned at the feeling, his hoarse voice betraying his exhaustion as Crowley nuzzled at his chest, his own body a little sticky with sweat. 

They both went quiet for a while, hearts beating heavily, their breath still ragged as they just relaxed into the post-orgasmic fog. After a good few minutes, however, Crowley could feel himself softening inside his angel, so he pulled out slowly, ignoring Aziraphale's soft whine of protest. He snapped his fingers to clean them both up, but didn't bother with clothing as he laid on his side, pressing himself against Aziraphale and hugging his arm tightly. 

The angel chuckled and rolled over to face Crowley, guiding him into a loving, tight embrace. "Not even underwear?" He chuckled, and Crowley grinned, burying his face in Aziraphale's chest contentedly. 

"Nah, s'more natural this way, angel," he mumbled, and Aziraphale just laughed, running one hand down to squeeze Crowley's backside teasingly. 

"Yeah? You just want to be close to me, don't you? Naughty little demon," he smirked, and Crowley ignored the blush rising to his cheeks, simply pressing himself closer into his partner's soft frame, one thin arm snaking around him, squeezing tightly. Aziraphale went still, one plump hand settling in Crowley's hair, his breathing soft and slow and incredibly soothing. Crowley couldn't recall a time in his long six thousand plus years that he'd felt more comfortable, and he simply hoped that there were a lot more of these times to come. 

Silence settled for a while, textured only by their soft, slow breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets when one of them shifted. Eventually, though, Aziraphale heaved a sigh and began to dislodge the reluctant Crowley, stroking his silky, fiery hair as he tried to cling on to the angel's soft middle. 

"I know, my love, I know, but I'm hungry," Aziraphale explained, his voice full of fond exasperation, his plump fingers feeling so good against Crowley's head. 

"Stay," he begged quietly, not caring that he was making himself vulnerable, not caring that he was dropping that guard, not anymore. Aziraphale loved him, he'd said it _out loud_ and nothing would be the same again, not even Crowley himself. "Please." 

"Crowley, if you let go of me, I'll make us both pancakes and you can help me clean up this mess you made," Aziraphale began, his voice bright, as if he was making an offer Crowley couldn't refuse. 

"How is that better than you staying here?" The demon grunted irritably, and Aziraphale chuckled, managing to sit up, despite Crowley still trying valiantly to pull him back down. "Well, you didn't let me finish. Once we've had breakfast and tidied, we can start organising things here for you. Like a proper bedroom, and maybe a television set, I know you like watching that one show...Golden Women." 

Crowley rolled his eyes and finally let go, flopping back to the bed in defeat and huffing an annoyed breath. "It's not called a _television set_ anymore, angel," he pointed out, deciding not to even bother addressing the 'Golden Girls' mistake - after all, he was pretty certain it wasn't actually a mistake. A theory that was confirmed by Aziraphale's knowing little smile as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"Well, a screen or whatever. You can have whatever you like," he answered, and Crowley just stared at him for a while, watching as Aziraphale gathered his clothes from the haphazard pile on the floor and began to dress. The sunlight filtering in through the window nearby was touching his outline with gold, making him glow, highlighting his beautiful features. 

Crowley couldn't help but just watch in silence, awed by the sheer perfection before him, and by the raw, now unfettered love that tore through his own body. He'd never felt anything so intensely in his long existence, it burned inside him, hotter than all the fires of Hell and now that it was no longer denied, it had only grown, filling him with boundless energy, filling him with desire, but also with a quietness, a certainty. He loved and was loved, wholeheartedly, and although he was supposed to be a being of hate, of evil, Crowley couldn't help but feel completely changed; so far removed from the label of 'demon,' so altered by his love for Aziraphale and Aziraphale's love for him, that Crowley barely knew what he was anymore. But one simple fact stood out among all this confusion, undeniable. 

_It didn't matter anymore._

Nothing did, not Heaven or Hell or anything in between, so long as Crowley could have Aziraphale, and could have him as wholly as he just had, for the rest of their existence. 

Aziraphale, finally dressed, got up without a backward glance and headed into the kitchen, once again all buttoned up in his waistcoat, and Crowley rolled his eyes again fondly. The angel really did need to update his wardrobe. 

Still smiling to himself, Crowley hauled himself up and dragged his hands down his face, then shook out his hair. A small miracle later, and he was clad in a new outfit - a plain dark grey t-shirt and a pair of fitted, stylish black sweatpants. Both comfortable, and easy to take off in a hurry, which Crowley had a feeling would be a huge bonus if he was going to be stuck in lockdown with Aziraphale for a while. It wasn't like it was easy for him to keep his hands off the angel, especially now that they'd finally _confessed_ and could enjoy their time together wholeheartedly and guilt-free. Crowley was ready to welcome Aziraphale's rather hedonistic nature with both arms wide open, and it all started with breakfast. 

Crowley stood, pulled his long hair up into a messy bun, and headed into the kitchen, hips swaying self-assuredly, his oversized t-shirt tied up at the side to show off a little midriff. He found Aziraphale already pouring batter into the frying pan, sleeves meticulously folded up, his lips slightly pursed in a frown of concentration. Warmth radiated through him at such a sweet, domestic sight, and Crowley stepped up to the angel, resting his chin on that rounded shoulder and wrapping his arms around that perfectly soft stomach. 

"Can every morning be like this from now on?" Crowley murmured, his voice full of genuine contentment, his cheek lightly pressed against Aziraphale's. 

The angel chuckled quietly, leaning back into Crowley's arms ever so slightly as he poked at the pancake with his spatula, testing whether it was ready to be flipped. "I'd rather like that myself, I have to admit. Welcome to the rest of your- no, _our_ life, my love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features an illustration by the lovely Ver_Sacrum! Her main account for more of her art is linked below, she has a great comic going on at the moment, it's definitely worth checking out! 
> 
> https://instagram.com/freedomattack_thereal?igshid=990yi6y8rxb4
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic! Please let me know what you thought, I've been so excited to share this with all of you!! ♡♡♡


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